Just Another RogerOC Fic
by PandaFire McMango
Summary: There are so many RogerOC fics in this world...what would happen if all those new girls got fed up with having to wait for our dear Roger? I think i will leave this with only the one chapter...if anyone really wants another one, tell me quick!


**this story came about because, after looking idly through the fanfic site, i realized that RogerOC fics are everywhere. Everyone just loooooves to pair Roger with some other girl; its the truth. So i wondred...what would happen if all those OCs decided that they weren't going to wait for updates to get some action with Roggie?**

Roger sat peacefully on the loft's couch, his blonde hair strewn luxuriously over the armrest. And that's not an exaggeration; so many people had loved his long hair and written it into fics that it was by now nearly to his knees. Obviously, poor Roger was quiet annoyed with this hair, since it got in the way of most daily activities: playing his guitar, making out with Mimi or Mark, being depressed, making out with Mimi or Mark, yelling at Maureen, and making out with Mimi or Mark, to name a few. Plus, everyone else just agreed that it looked stupid. Angel practically gagged every time he walked by.

Roger sighed and leaned back, eyes sliding shut. This was a rare time of day for him. Mark was off doing an AU fic about circuses with Benny, and Collins was in what he called an "Eye Drop Fic"; the kind of fic where he cried so much about Angel being dead that he needed about two bottles of eye drops before his eyes stopped being red and puffy. And with the four girls (well, the four people who wore skirts on a regular basis) off in another Maureen-pregnancy fic, Roger finally had some alone time. He was just starting to doze off when—

"Roger Davis!" He jumped a foot in the air as she screeched his name. Mimi Marquez stood defiantly in the doorway, one hand on her hip. She was wearing bright blue hologram pants and a black stripper top, a common occurrence when lazy writers didn't bother to put her into a single costume; instead, they crossed wires and put her half in her show costume, half in her movie one.

"Roger, what the hell is that?" she said angrily, pointing at the window, He groaned and slowly got up from the couch.

"What the hell is what, Mimi?" he asked wearily. Stupid fanfic writers, they did this to her, he thought grumpily. Before, all she used to do was beg for me to take her back. Now she acts like an old Jewish wife or something…and even though it's their fault, the writers don't put her with Mark, who's actually Jewish! Bright idea, sticking the loud, cranky person with the guy that _doesn't_ have million relatives like that. I'm Presbyterian, we don't bother anyone…

"Roger, are you listening to me? Jeez, sometimes I swear Collins uses your ears to store his pot stash! At least that would explain why you can't hear me!" He rolled his eyes and pushed a grungy, five-foot-long lock of hair behind one ear.

"What's the problem again?"

"Look!" She pointed viciously at the window. Roger traipsed over and looked out into the street. His eyes bugged.

Below him was a gigantic line of women, so long that it snaked down the sidewalk and around the corner. About sixty percent of the women were red heads, and all of them had busts the size of the Hindenburg. The moment they saw Roger in the window, a great cheer rose, and most of them jumped up and down in excitement. This, of course, caused all the other random male fanfic characters walking by to stop and stare…or just to keep on walking and plow headfirst into a pole.

"Wha—who are they?" Roger stuttered over the dull roar of the cheering woman. Mimi crossed her arms and glared.

"_They_ happen to be every single OC that you've hooked up with in the last month alone! God, Roger, you can accuse me of fucking Benny all you like, but at least _try_ to keep your own affairs to yourself!" Mimi grimaced and turned, stomping from the loft. Roger pressed himself against the window, awed by just how many women there were.

_I've been busy_, he realized. A smile slowly spread across his face…

"Whoa, what's going on out there, another We-Love-Markie march?" Mark said, walking out of the bathroom door. Roger whirled around.

"How'd you get in there? I thought the circus fic was still going on."

"Yeah, well, long story. Anyway, what's the deal? I just talked to Collins, and he's practically blind because his eye stuff is in here and he can't fight his way through. Still, I guess it doesn't make much difference. Those chests are blotting out the sun, he couldn't see if his eyes were normal…" Mark pushed Roger to the side and ogled through the window, his eyes the size of fried eggs.

"Well, Mimi's says they're my OCs from this month." Mark's head snapped up, and he glared at Roger.

"_Your_ OCs? That can't be. I get more OCs per day than this." Roger shrugged and unlatched the window. Climbing out onto the fire escape (a feat that, like many, was seriously hindered by his bushels of hair), he leaned over the railing and called, "Hey, girls! Who you here for?"

"Roger! Roger! It's Roger! We love you, Roger!" The cries grew so loud that Roger's ears started to ring. Grinning and waving, he went back into the loft. Mark stared at him, mouth open.

"That's not right…it can't be…" Suddenly, Mark lunged out the window and gripped the railing. He shouted, "Hey, ladies! Any of you want a little piece of Mark?"

Complete silence.

"Aw, shit," he muttered, climbing back in. Roger smirked. With a toss of his locks, he swaggered over to the couch and reclined on it, arms behind his head. Mark went over into the corner to sulk.

"I DON'T KNOW WHOSE FAULT IT IS THAT THEY'RE OUT THERE, BUT I OWE YOU BIG-TIME!" Maureen shrieked, running up the loft stairs. Joanne followed after her, brow furrowed.

"Maureen!"

"Stuff it! I'm getting me some action!" Maureen made for the window, and probably would have swan-dived out of it if Joanne hadn't thrown herself on the diva at the last second. They fell to the floor with a thump, Maureen wriggling like a fish.

"Lemme go! The girls are gonna be gone, Pookie, let go of me!"

"Don't bother," said Mark sulkily. "They only want Roger." Roger raised his eyebrows and shrugged. Maureen stopped squirming and stared.

"Roger? Why Roger?"

"They're my OCs. It's not _my_ fault that you guys aren't good enough for the writers," Roger said innocently. Joanne grunted and got off of Maureen, who lay on the floor staring longingly at the window.

"Well, we just got off the Maureen-pregnancy fic, and it was all we could do to fight our way in here. Collins is trapped outside while he's blind, and Angel and Mimi are finishing up. Oh, and just to tell you…" She shrugged and looked up at the ceiling. "Those OCS who were scaling the walls should be here any second."

"Scaling the walls? What—" But before Roger could say another word, the fire escape was suddenly teaming with girls. They burst in through the window and swarmed onto Roger, who had been too surprised to get off the couch.

"Roger, remember me? I'm Ashley! You know, that random girl you met who tore you away from Mimi in that fic that was, like, _totally_ long and outrageous?" said a girl with deep blue eyes as she started to rub Roger's shoulders.

"No, he doesn't remember you! He knows me, though! Roggie, you know who I am! I'm Kelly, I knew you when you were a hot angsty teen instead of an even hotter, even angstier man!" The thin blonde girl was nearly on top of Roger as she stoked his forehead. A third girl pushed her away.

"Get off of him, you poser! Roger, baby, it's me, Peyton! That girl who chewed you out about Mimi after she died and we spent that night together…" Her long black hair fell across his face as she leaned forward to fight off Kelly. A dozen other girls moved in, all shrieking their names and past relationships with Roger. The blonde man squirmed underneath, not so much out of pleasure as out of air loss.

"Mark! Help!" he managed to shout. Mark stood frozen to the floor, fascinated by the women mobbing his best friend. Maureen and Joanne looked stunned. Finally, Roger strained to sit up and succeeded, which caused all the OCs to ooh and aah like idiots. Panting, Roger pushed his hair back. They clustered around him, boobs and lips practically creating a solid wall to prevent his escape.

"Ladies, ladies, one at a time…I love you, babes, but I'm not much of a multi-tasker." The girls all burst into maniacal giggles that nearly deafened the three other people in the loft. Roger grinned at his adoring club, nodding with satisfaction.

"What the hell is—God Almighty, they're everywhere!" The voice came from the door, and everyone whirled to see Angel standing there, her eyes huge and her hand on her hip. Slowly, her arm went limp, and her hand dropped down to dangle by her side.

"How did they…what are they…do you realize what it's like out there? They've taken over the streets, they've created some kind of mass mob!" Angel sounded more angry than scared. Roger, like the others, had frozen under her gaze. Since the term _others_ did not apply to the OCs, they took advantage of Roger being still and started to unbutton his shirt and undo his belt. He didn't notice, seeing as Angel was glaring at him.

"Roger, they've started mugging people in your name! I saw the entire Phantom of the Opera group surrounded by this…_legion_ of redheads! They apprehended and frisked the Von Trapp kids! For God's sake, the blondes are holding Maria and Tony hostage until you go out to them!" She actually shook her finger at him. "All those other Musicals are getting ready to storm this building and offer you as a sacrifice! Roger, I swear, if you do not call off those girls, Sweeney Todd is going to have no shortage of pie material!" Angel turned and stomped down the stairs, her heels clicking on the steps. Roger and the others stared at her retreating back.

Finally, Roger snapped out of his trance, though not before the OCS had managed to completely undo his shirt and nearly get his belt off. He waved them back and cleared his throat.

"Listen…girls…can you call those others off? I mean, I really don't have any desire to be a pie…" The OCs glanced at each other and giggled.

"Well—"

"We might be able to do that—"

"Only Roggie—"

"We need a little persuasion." Roger's eyebrows went up and down.

"Persuasion?" By now, about three of them were in his lap, and the others were all grabbing hold of him in some way. He grinned and clicked his teeth.

"I think I've got my work cut out for me, then." And he grabbed the nearest one.

"Aw, shit," muttered Mark, Maureen, and Joanne at the same time.

**i will update soon! luvvies!**


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